Terron’s POV
My mate is skittish, and that may just be a personality trait, but I’ve seen it dwindle lately. She has left the house a few times this week but not without staying nearby, playing in the creek that runs through our pack. She sits on the rocks and rolls up her pants, letting the ice cold water from the mountains travel swiftly past her ankles.
She’s beautiful even in deep, methodical thought over the betrayal of her father.
She won’t say it, but the bond between us gives me enough insight to know it haunts her outside of her nightmares. Whenever she looks away, staring into deep space with a calm, wounded look on her face, I can tell she is thinking of how she could have changed everything.